Misdiagnosis
by AlibisDragon
Summary: Usopp's turn of bad luck throws Sanji into a situation he never wanted to have to handle, and they both learn that some circumstances have a tendency to raise more questions than they answer. SanUso Oneshot. Complete.


And here I am again! With a drabble turned ficlet run rampant into a full-out oneshot. x.x Well, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna get shot for this one... so rather than prolong the inevitable, I'll just get to it. I know for a fact you won't like the ending, just to warn you all now. Bear in mind that this entire fic came out more or less exactly as I had intended it to. Meh... I took a chance. It was a good exercise for me either way. I'm expecting greatly mixed reactions and that's fine, tell me what you hated so I don't do it again! XD

Warnings: SanUso Yaoi/Shounen ai, language.

Disclaimer: Don't own it!

Well... I hope someone enjoys this randomness!

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Misdiagnosis

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"Sanji, _GO!_" 

Muscles tense, body coiled like a spring ready to be released, the blonde nodded soundlessly in assent to Nami's order.

He'd been waiting.

When the word was given he spun on his heel, off like a shot in the opposite direction. For a moment he scrambled, fighting to gain traction in the soft footing before he found purchase, bowing forward into an all-out sprint and dodging through the battle that had overwhelmed the beach.

He hit the water at a dead run, almost losing his balance to the thick, wet sand as it sucked heavily at his feet. The chef hurriedly toed out of his shoes, kicking up spray as he lurched forward again, lengthening his stride until pain lanced through his muscles; legs protesting fiercely at the overextension.

In a span of ten yards and half that many seconds, the cook managed to distinguish one hunched shadow, a visibly struggling form among the spread of the fallen. With his focus set fast upon the marksman he saw the boy falter, nearly caving when a swell caught him squarely behind the knees, and Sanji felt a sympathetic hitch in his own stride.

Looking unsteady at best, Usopp stood calf-deep amidst the waves, his stance wide as he fought to stay upright. Against the crashing surf and the relentless undertow, he made his way from the ocean, each step slow and arduous; driven by shear force of will.

Having to thread his way through the debris that littered the beach, the marksman's path to dry land easily grew threefold, his passage constantly barred by driftwood, rocks, and the far more frequent corpse; bodies half-submerged, lifeless fingers clenched in perpetual fists around the weapons that had failed them.

The blonde, having recovered from his brief stumble, pushed himself back into motion, easily handling the one marine who had dared follow him from the battle still playing itself out some distance behind him.

Easily downed with one well-aimed kick, the officer fell alongside the others, joining countless victims in their sprawl upon the sand; both military and pirate alike.

Livid that his attention had been pulled from his crewmate, Sanji was instantly back on track, swiftly closing in on the sniper, whose step was beginning to noticeably waver. As the gap between them dwindled, he noted absently that the gunner's own weapon, that familiar slingshot, was still tucked safely into the folds of the fabric binding his waist.

Had he even drawn it at all?

By now the boy had nearly passed beyond the reach of the tide, swaying dangerously as he paused where the sea, having lost its momentum to the surge inland, only just swept over his bare feet. When the water began to recede, the sand now tinged with foam and dark with renewed moisture, it seemed to take the last of the liar's enduring strength with it, leaving him sapped and unsettled in its wake.

'Almost there,' Sanji thought urgently, unwilling to draw his eyes from his comrade even as he leapt over the prone forms of several enemy pirates. Effortlessly clearing one last obstacle put him in the clear, a stretch of open shore the only thing separating him from the sharpshooter.

Relief and adrenaline pulsed through him, briefly hazing his mind as he rapidly closed the distance between them. Crossing the final few strides, the cook slowed his pace to a brisk walk, not wanting to startle his friend with his abrupt arrival.

"Oi," he began, lips quirking into a tired grin, watching as the smaller teen paused, one arm curled protectively over his side.

The gunner turned in his direction, his movement's slow and experimental as if something was limiting his range of motion. He took another step toward the chef and straightened slightly, lifting his head to stare blearily at him for a moment. The liar frowned, as if for an instant he couldn't seem to place the older pirate.

Several seconds passing found recognition dawning across his expression and he straightened even further, allowing the blonde a clear view of what his arm had been hiding.

Struck cold by the sight in front of him, the cook was rooted to his spot. Shock, anger and horror clashed within his mind, knotting his stomach as he took in the sniper's appearance.

Bowed at the hip, the younger teen was braced at an awkward angle, one arm shielding his abdomen and the wound that must have lain beneath the tattered fabric of his clothes. A stain spread forth from the sizeable tear in his overalls, the material marred by the blood that had soaked it through; the normally stark white fabric binding his waist allowing the angry scarlet to show in its full color.

The sharpshooter offered his comrade a weak smile, his eyes alone holding more life than the rest of his body, and he opened his mouth to speak before Sanji's voice cut him short.

"O-Oi!" The chef cried, one blue eye wide as his mind reeled, trying to judge how long the darker haired boy had been bleeding at that rate. "Usopp!"

As if the blonde's words had been too loud, too sharp, the marksman flinched noticeably, the sound throwing off his already unsound balance as effectively as a physical blow. With a faint cry he staggered, cringing as he pulled at his injury, and after a moments struggle he recovered enough to plant one foot hard upon the ground.

Dashing forward, the chef discovered that his reaction had been moments too late. Throwing himself forward in a desperate lunge, the tightening in his chest told him he was still too far away to check the boy's fall, but didn't prevent him from reaching out as if he weren't.

Gritting his teeth the darker haired teen swung upright again, countering his downward momentum only to find that he'd overcompensated, crashing to his knees regardless.

Catching himself upon his free arm, the long-nose saved himself from collapsing any further. His breath caught harshly as his body flared with pain and he fisted the hand he was leaning upon, scoring the beach as his fingers raked through the sand.

Skidding to his knees beside the gunner, the blonde took him gently by the shoulders, mindful of his injuries. "Usopp," Sanji called, shaking the boy gently when he failed to respond. "Usopp! What happened?"

After several more moments there was still no answer, the sharpshooter's eyes dull and unclear, never lifting to acknowledge him.

"Usopp!" Realizing the severity of their situation, the love cook gathered himself as well as he could, swallowing his panic and drawing his focus as he quickly considered the few options they had. In his distraction, his attention fell to the footprints the liar had left in his passing, and his heart clenched at what he found.

The imprints were erratic, not evenly patterned as they would have been had the gunner not been wounded. They became more pronounced as they grew nearer, beyond the scope of the waves, and each one cradled a small collection of water. That alone was normal enough, but the deep crimson clouding each shallow pool brought the blonde's earlier thought back to mind.

_How long had Usopp been bleeding?_

Sanji pressed one fist to his mouth, biting his knuckle in frustration so strong that he didn't even register the approach of someone from the battle.

"Sanji!"

With a start, the larger pirate leapt to his feet, whirling into a kick that would have sent the assailant flying had they not been ready to dart backwards, out of the range of the blonde's powerful legs. Preparing to swing straight into another assault, the cook stalled upon hearing a familiar whine.

"_San_ji, it's _me_!"

"Luffy?" He questioned, landing easily in a crouch beside the marksman. The darker haired teen had slumped to the ground in his absence, his limbs in an odd tangle, and Sanji felt a strange pang in his chest at the scene. Lifting the boy into his arms, he never hesitated as he moved to hold the long-nose close.

The rubber man nodded energetically. "Yeah!" He exclaimed, sounding almost offended that one of his crew hadn't recognized him. Straightening his straw hat, thrown into a peculiar slant during his hasty dodge, he pouted absently.

"Of course it's…" The captain eased into silence when he noticed the barely conscious sniper, before letting out an shrill cry of alarm. "AH!" Eye's wide, he flailed madly in confused panic. "Sanji! What happened to Usopp?"

"I don't know," the blonde muttered urgently, his tone heavy with concern. Feeling the pressure in his chest grow, his throat tightening, the chef could barely summon his voice to continue. "But he's in really bad shape."

"Then he needs a doctor!" The raven-haired teen insisted, gesturing wildly as he leaned over his older friend, his worried gaze fixed upon the liar. "Now!"

"You think I don't know that?" The larger pirate snapped, dropping his gaze back to the boy nestled within his grasp. "Do you _see_ a doctor around here?" Shifting carefully, he hefted the boy's slack frame closer, and Usopp's head lolled into the crook of his elbow, displaying the bare skin of his throat and in turn, just how pale he had become.

"Chopper's back at the ship," he mumbled quietly, fists clenching around handfuls of the gunner's ragged clothes. "Doesn't it figure that the one crewmate I need is the one who isn't here…"

Luffy crossed his arms, his forehead creasing beneath the brim of his hat as he frowned. "Then take _him_ back to_ Chopper_!" He suggested, head quirked to one side as he gifted the chef with an odd look, as if that idea was as clear as day.

Sanji sighed audibly, closing his eyes for a moment as he fought to settle his nerves. For Usopp's sake at the very least, he needed to stay in control. "I already considered that," he answered, the words strained as he felt precious seconds slipping through his fingers. "But I can't just back out of the fight and-"

"Oi!"

Noticeably startled, Luffy glanced back over his left shoulder to see his swordsman stalking in their direction. "Oh, Zoro!" He greeted casually, beaming at the arrival of his first mate. "There you are!"

The young man scowled, muttering angrily under his breath and looking quite disgruntled as he stopped beside his captain. "What the hell are you two doing over here?" He questioned heatedly, sweeping one sword wide toward the sounds of the conflict. "We've gotta clean out the rest of the marines before their reinforcements get…" Stalling mid-sentence, the larger teen's eyes widened as they fell upon the marksman.

The rubber-man noticed his friend's reaction and nodded quickly, answering his crewmate's unspoken question. "Usopp needs a doctor," he supplied helpfully.

Zoro gifted the younger boy with a flat look, clearly unimpressed, before he turned a disapproving eye on the love cook. "What the hell are you still doing here?" He barked, sheathing his blades so his arms were free to fold across his chest.

"He needs to get back to the ship. He needs Chopper," the swordsman continued. His voice was calm, even, but the urgency carried through, easily detected in the way the young man's tone lowered as he stressed his point.

"That's what I told him," Luffy piped up, expression triumphant, visibly pleased that his green haired companion was on his side of the argument.

Again, the blonde's return was sharp, his words clipped as he spoke. "I don't need to hear that from _you_," he ground out, his visible eyebrow drawn as he glared up at the moss-head. "And just like I told _him_," the chef nodded curtly to indicate the captain, "I can't just-"

"If the captain says to take him to Chopper," Zoro began, tone brusque as he cut his crewmate short, "Then take him to Chopper already, you shit-cook." With his eyes narrowing upon the princess, he paused, prepared for any reply his comrade might give… save for the one he received.

The former Baratie employee erupted in sarcastic laughter, only barely making it to his feet as he levered himself upright, carefully hefting the sniper as he did so. "What?" He quipped, resettling the boy in his arms to accommodate the shift in posture. "And leave the battle in _your_ capable hands? Forget it!"

Positively beside himself, the swordsman gave up on a clever remark, instead easing into a growl that rumbled from deep within his chest. He took one purposeful step forward, offering his open arms, both held in welcome. "Then give him to me and _I'll_ take him!"

There was another snort, the blonde's expression doubtful as he matched Zoro's advance with one long pace backwards. "Knowing your sense of direction he'll be dead before Chopper can even look at him!" Sanji turned slightly away, as if shielding the body in his grasp.

Glowering at his fellow crewmember, the first mate bit back another incoherent snarl in favor of another stride closer. "Damn it, Usopp doesn't have time for this! Just give him to me!"

"You'll never even get back to the ship, dumbass!" The cook burst, his hold around the gunner tightening subconsciously as he retreated even further, this time in the direction of the forest that lined the beach.

"Then _you_ take him," Zoro countered impatiently, taking Luffy by the arm and motioning him back toward the battle.

The chef balanced carefully, acclimating himself to moving with the marksman's added weight. When he spared a moment to shout back, his tone was distracted, the blonde preoccupied with the shallow, yet steady rise and fall of Usopp's chest. "I'm _going_ to take him, fucking marimo!"

"Then get your ass moving, moron!" The swordsman grouched, breaking into a jog without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

With no road in sight, the cook was already forcing his way through the underbrush and into the trees, only replying when he had made it into the shade of the dense wood.

"If you'd shut up I'd be gone already!" He bellowed. As an afterthought, he followed through with a resounding "Asshole!", putting any extra energy he possessed into the call to be sure it would carry over the din of combat.

Several moments passing found the first mate's voice rising in answer. "You're the one still whining, love cook!" Zoro challenged fiercely, speaking over Luffy's own farewell cry of "Take good care of Usopp!"

Now well into the forest and rapidly approaching the end of his comrade's hearing range, Sanji gathered himself for a rough trip; tugging the liar more securely against his chest. "Shit-head, I'd better not find out you let Robin-chan and Nami-san do all the work. I'll kick your sorry ass."

The words were quiet, grumbled loud enough to reach his ears alone… and perhaps those of the motionless boy within his hold. But even then, the blonde knew that he had only spoken to keep his mouth busy, preferring a potential jab at the swordsman to anything he might accidentally confess under the pressure of the situation.

"Stay with me, Usopp," he urged softly, as if afraid to speak any louder while risking a swift glance down at his friend. Doing his best not to jostle the sharpshooter's injuries, he leapt into a sprint, evading the larger branches and taking the brunt of the smaller as he hunched low over his sniper.

What felt like an eternity of gnarled trees and moss-covered rocks had, in all likelihood, only lasted a few short minutes, and the chef found himself no closer to anything resembling the wide dirt road that had led them to the beach in the first place.

To the beach and into the military's trap. One that had been far more clever than those that had come before. Well… they'd either been very cunning for a change, or had stumbled onto some of the rubber-man's infamous dumb luck.

Several more uneventful minutes passed, and the older pirate found himself cussing under his breath again, the effort of keeping up his frantic pace beginning to take its toll on his body.

His lungs were burning, every breath scorching down his raw throat as he forced himself to maintain his demanding stride. His arms were shaking, trembling from the exertion of holding the liar's still frame safely against his own, and his legs were no better, torn and bleeding from where the tall brush had lashed around his bare calves.

At this point the only things driving him forward were strength of will and the faint color that still clung to the marksman's cheeks.

Choosing his path carefully, the chef charged on, crashing through yet another thicket before he faltered, one wrong step sending him to his knees for the second time that day. With a rush of energy he hadn't known he'd had left, he reeled backwards as he fell, hauling his crewmate upward and away from the ground to keep Usopp from any further harm.

His joints stung, throbbing under the full impact of both his and the gunner's combined weight. His legs had been chafed raw when he had dropped into the sand earlier, and now the blonde cringed as the pain pulsed to life again.

Sanji bit back a groan, teeth fastening hard upon his bottom lip as he fought to stifle himself. So when an afflicted cry still managed to make itself known, he was startled to say the least before he discovered the true source.

"Ow…" The sharpshooter winced again, squirming weakly against the strong, calming arms surrounding him. Why was everything so dark? And why did everything hurt?

"U-" The larger pirate began, all thoughts of pain immediately overwhelmed by his intense relief at finding the marksman awake and, although looking quite lethargic, aware. "Usopp!"

Flinching at his companion's ecstatic tone, the gunner let out a pitiful whimper, gazing blearily upward into the acute focus of that single blue eye. "Sanji," he murmured, words garbled together in his exhaustion, "Can you stop…?" Talking? Moving? Looking at me like that? "It hurts…" He finished vaguely.

The smaller teen drew a slow, labored breath, blinking the fog from his mind as he felt the blonde prop him carefully upon his folded legs. Everything seemed terribly blurred and sharply vivid at the same time, and the boy found his eyes closing of their own accord.

"Usopp," the chef called softly, slightly alarmed when his comrade's lashes fluttered, fighting to remain open. "Stay awake," he pleaded, "Stay with me." Lifting his left hand to the younger pirate's face, he gently cradled the slope of the boy's right cheek, coaxing his crewmate to turn fully in his direction. "Can you tell me what happened?"

The question had the liar's eyes opening slightly again, and the sharpshooter swallowed thickly, his eyelids heavy and uncooperative as he tried to return the love cook's worried gaze. "I was going… to ask you the same thing," he countered slowly, comforted by the warmth of the palm clasped tenderly against his skin.

Frowning, the larger of the two found himself stumbling. "Well, do you remember the beach?" He offered absently, carefully trying to dislodge the stained cloth draped about the marksman's waist. "The battle?" He persisted hopefully, the fingers of his free hand now cautiously working at the knot against the teen's left hip.

With his breath hitching as pain lanced up his side, the long-nose bore down upon a shrill cry, hissing through his teeth as the blonde finally tugged the sash away. He inhaled slowly, centering himself before he frowned in thought, his mind in a state of total disarray.

"A battle?" Usopp echoed faintly, his tone distant and lost. "Is that why everything hurts so bad?"

Sanji felt his heart clench at those words. He needed to get Usopp the attention he truly needed, but moving him only seemed to worsen his already grave condition. "Yeah, that's why," he confirmed, winding the fabric in his hand into a ball. "It looks like someone got you pretty good.."

'Ah,' the darker haired young man mused drowsily. 'So that's why everyth-' "Ah…_Ahn!_"

With his body arching in protest to the pain, the sniper couldn't stop the piercing wail that broke from his lips as his companion pressed the makeshift tourniquet firmly over his injury. The fingers holding the material to his side did not relent, and with his head spinning, vision blurring, the sharpshooter allowed himself to slouch sideways against the chef's torso.

"Oh, yeah," he whimpered shakily, teeth barred as he weathered through the lasting ache. His memory had returned with the sweeping pain, and as he bore his face into his comrade's chest he caught himself cringing from both. "Now I remember," he rasped, struggling to draw air through the tightening in his throat.

"Sorry," the love cook offered, his manner hushed as the arm still holding the gunner carefully tightened in a gesture of apology. Features drawn into focus on the boy sprawled upon his lap, he painstakingly rearranged the liar into a more comfortable position.

While his outward appearance must have looked collected and calm, in complete control of the situation, internally, saying he was an utter mess would have been a spectacular understatement. In reality he felt lost in a way he'd never experienced before, helpless and panicked to the degree that he could sense it numbing the very tips of his fingers.

Taking up one of the sharpshooter's slender wrists, the chef withdrew his hand still holding the compress and replaced it with Usopp's own. "Can you hold that there?" He questioned, reaching beneath the long-nose again to lift him into his arms, his face set in determination. "We need to get you back to Chopper."

When he managed a small, sluggish nod in answer, the marksman felt the blonde shift for a moment before he found himself swept upward. His friend's groans of exertion, almost inaudible over the blood roaring in his ears, were the only sounds he could discern until the older pirate levered himself off of his knees.

That slight, scarcely detectable jolt had been enough to wrench his still open wound, and a voice that Usopp barely recognized as his own shattered the relative quiet with a raw, stricken howl.

"Sa…Sanji," he choked tearfully, his free hand instantly seizing in a fist around folds of the young man's shirt.

The sniper felt his crewmate freeze, still hunched midway to standing upright, and the arms supporting him immediately tensed in response. The fingers holding his side twitched spasmodically, his grip upon the improvised bandage fumbling as the cloth, now heavy with blood, slipped to the ground.

The young chef poured frantically over a decision, his teeth worrying at his lower lip as he weighed their choices. "Alright," he relented at length, tone sounding almost defeated. "We'll rest for another minute, but then we _have _to get you back to the ship."

He sank back to the ground, cross-legged upon the damp leaves that littered the forest floor. Gently, he pulled his comrade close, bowing over until he could cradle Usopp's head against his neck. He permitted himself a deep, fortifying breath and closed his eyes to stay his emotions. Something was wrong…

"Can you…" The love cook faltered, swallowing hard around the lump forming in his throat. Wrapping both arms securely around his friend, he could only hope he was offering some sort of comfort as he opened his mouth to try again. "Can you tell me how you got so nicked up?"

Laughing weakly amidst his shallow breaths, the gunner smiled wearily, the rise and fall of his chest erratic. "Oh yeah," he began, his tired gaze rising to meet that of the young man embracing him. "My slingshot broke," he explained slowly, blinking rapidly as his eyes threatened to close again. "The elastic band snapped clean in two."

Sanji tugged the boy tighter against himself, one hand shifting from where it had held the darker haired teen's shoulder to delve into his back pocket.

The marksman's sash was soaked through, so he grinned in halfhearted victory when he discovered that one of his handkerchiefs was still where he'd tucked it that morning, quickly reaching to staunch the blood still weeping from the boy's torn flesh.

"That's the last time I rush into battle without checking my equipment first," the long-nose continued with another weak chuckle. He moved as if to reach for the weapon, glancing to where it had fallen into the dirt, but made it no more than a few inches before he seemed to give up, his arm falling lifelessly to his side.

The blonde swiftly captured those formerly questing fingers within his own, clasping the smaller pirate's hand against his own heart as he fought to stem the tears he could see welling beneath his friend's thick lashes.

"Just a streak of bad luck," he soothed, offering the sharpshooter an encouraging squeeze. "It's all going to work out fine," he persisted, knowing somewhere deep in his mind that the second sentence had been to console himself more than his younger company.

Usopp let himself be coddled, couldn't find it in himself to refuse the nearly childish way his comrade was treating him… the attention he hadn't known he'd wanted so badly until now. 'He seems so calm,' the liar thought fuzzily, 'maybe everything really will be alright…' But even with that idea in mind, the gunner couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension he felt twisting in his stomach.

The sniper hummed in delayed acknowledgement of the chef's words, his eyes caught upon their joined hands. A terrible sense of hollow finality was nesting within his mind, and he felt cold beginning to wind its way inward from the ends of each limb; even the warmth of the fingers cinched tightly about his own couldn't ward off the invading chill.

The gunner lost his fleeting battle to curb the tears he felt begin to slip down his cheeks, and even with his recent realization, when he found the blonde releasing his hand in favor of brushing them away, he couldn't help the haggard, yet somehow brilliant smile that lit his face as he began musing aloud. "Either way, I don't think I'll have to worry about that much longer."

For a moment, the tension in the air shot up, the atmosphere almost charged. The liar felt his friend's breath hitch sharply, felt the fingertips upon his face stall halfway through another sweep down the curve of his cheek. Risking a glance upward, he was shocked at what met his gaze.

The cook's expression was positively livid, his brow deeply creased as he countered the younger boy's focus with a pointed glare. His grip upon his crewmate's shoulder tightened painfully in his ire, wringing a startled yelp from the boy in his arms.

"Shut the _hell_ up!" Sanji spat, tone shaking with barely contained rage. "Don't you _ever_ talk like that!" With a renewed purpose, he settled himself to the task of thumbing away the gunner's tears. "You are _not_ going to _die_."

Still speechless, Usopp couldn't pull his attention from his comrade's face. As he watched, he witnessed the blonde's eye narrow, clenching shut against something other than anger.

"You… You're not!" The love cook spoke firmly, his words leaving no room for argument. "That's complete bullshit, fucking moron. Don't you _ever _let me hear you say shit like that again! I'll kick your ass!"

The sniper sniffled quietly, wincing when his friend's fingers pressed a little to hard beneath his right eye. His fellow crewmember's face was crumbling, the facade of unwavering composure collapsing into a look of reluctant sorrow; grief in its most bare and basic form.

Sanji bit back a sob, forcing the sound into a growl as it fell from his lips. He felt the damp heat of his own tears lining his cheeks and fought valiantly against the tremors that were teasing at his lips, instead clenching his jaw painfully hard, grinding his teeth. This couldn't be happening… This could _not_ be _happening!_

Too many unanswered questions, too many dreams and promises left unfulfilled, too many possibilities… The young man had lost count of the maybes that had been plaguing him, and now, it seemed as if that was all they'd ever be.

Fighting to remain coherent through his dazed state of mind, the gunner squinted up at the chef. "Sanji?" He called weakly, noting the strong angle of the larger boy's jaw as he fought to remain silent.

Slowly, his movements uncertain and unstable in his fatigue, the liar raised one hand, his fingers seeking out the pale crest of the cook's right cheek. "What's wrong with your face?" He wondered vaguely, his normally quick mind failing him.

Visibly wrestling with himself, the blonde kept his gaze locked with that of his darker haired companion. "I… I can't," he stumbled, cutting himself short in order to rein in the cry that was gathering even through the tightening in his throat. "I-I'm trying not to… _not to_..."

Feeling the boys fingertips playing across his face, Sanji had to double his efforts in fending off the overwhelming sorrow and loss. He'd never seen the boy seem so fearless... 'Or so irreplaceable,' he concluded, the irony making him feel even more sick than he had before. For his friend's sake, he forced a painfully false smile onto his features.

When had this boy become everything he had never known he'd wanted?

...That he'd needed?

The sniper grinned as well as he could manage, feeling his pain ebb more with the appearance of that strained smirk than with his mounting blood loss. With quivering hands, he attempted to wipe away his comrade's tears, but when his fingers fell away he found that he had only managed to streak the older teen's skin with his own blood.

"Here I'm getting you all dirty," he slurred groggily, reaching out again, this time to cleanse the chef's face of the stain.

He dabbed lazily at the marks his fingers had left, hoping to rid that flawless skin of the blemish he had left, but his pains had only served to smudge the scarlet hue, smearing it down the side of his crewmate's features to be spread even further by the track of his tears.

"Sorry about that, Sanji," he spoke softly, his own smile weakening as shadows began to creep into the edges of his vision.

Recognizing his endeavors as being unsuccessful, the sharpshooter withdrew, barely managing to retreat more than a few inches before he found his hand snatched back and cupped against that same cheek, long fingers lacing with his own.

Clutching the long-nose to his body, the larger of the two shook his head violently. "Just shut the hell up, already!" He commanded, flattening the smaller boy's palm back against his own skin. "We need to get you back to Chopper right now."

But Usopp was no longer listening.

His gaze had been sapped of what little life remained, going dull and listless beneath his tear-laden eyelashes. The smile remained, but his mouth was now working repeatedly around the same few words, as if he had liked the sound of them.

A simple phrase, yet even in its trivial nature, never before had two brief words weighed so heavily upon the blonde.

"I'm sorry," the marksman echoed, each syllable falling low and breathless from his lips. "I'm… s-sorry, Sanji."

The love cook could feel his face tighten, wrenched into an expression of intense suffering; his mind, heart and body wrestling for control. With so many ideas twisting ruthlessly within him, he was far too distracted to stifle the strangled moan that slipped free. "Shut-" He faltered, voice hitching noticeably upon a shuddering breath. "Shut up!"

"Didn't I tell you not to say things like that, you idiot!" He continued quietly, bending lower over the boy in his arms. "You're not going to… to-"

"Sorry," the sniper interrupted, tone softer than the older teen had ever heard. "Sanji…"

Inhaling sharply, the cook reeled back, expression contorting into one of pulsing anger. "I said _shut_ _UP!_" He roared, the hand once holding the boy's closing relentlessly around one bare shoulder. "Just shut the _fuck _up!" He tore his fingers from the boy's chilled skin, pressing the heel of his fist forcefully against his right eye, feeling new tears burn their way down his wrist. "_Damn it_," he choked.

"Sanji," the gunner sighed, almost inaudible, his lips quirking sleepily upward. "Sorry."

"Is…" With his chest aching, the young chef rode out another sob, clenching his jaw tight as he ordered his quaking voice to function. "Is that all you can say?" He accused, bitter regret and guilt laced through his tone. "Where are your fucking stories, huh?"

He scrubbed furiously at his face, frantically trying to erase all evidence of his mourning. "After all this time, now you've got nothing to say for yourself?" He snorted sarcastically. "Surely the Great Captain Usopp hasn't found himself at a loss for words!"

"Surely there's no way that the Great… the Great Captain Uso-" Sanji was forced to pause when his voice broke mid-sentence. He drew in a slow breath, setting his face before he pressed onward. "…Captain Usopp," he finished deliberately, his tone hard with determination, "has… h-has no…"

This time, when an afflicted cry wrung itself from deep within his chest, he let it come; felt his breath leave him in one long, lonesome note. "_Damn it, Usopp_," he pleaded faintly, pressing one fist to his trembling lips. "Tell me what I want to hear… Please. Just tell me everything's going to be alright." He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as his vision swam. "Lie to me," he begged, utterly defeated, "Just don't die…"

When no reply followed, not even the breathlessly presented apology that the gunner had been offering him several moments ago, the blonde's body tensed, his gaze flying to his friend's motionless face.

"Usopp?" He called weakly, his entire manner hesitant as he arched over his comrade's still form. "Usopp!" With only silence as his answer, the young man crushed the liar's body to his own, dropping his forehead to the boy's collarbone. "God damn it," he muttered, "You fucking moron…"

"You idiot," he croaked, muddled words spilling freely now. "Don't leave me."

There were so many unanswered questions left in the marksman's passing, so many what-ifs, and open-ended conversations had never settled well with the blonde's conscience.

"You stupid bastard," he mumbled, "I'll kick your ass." Reaching around to rake one hand through his fallen crewmate's damp curls, he growled half-heartedly. "If you die on me, I'll kick your fucking ass!"

The quiet stretched on, and even the typical noises one would find in a forest seemed to be missing, the lack of sound plaguing the grieving pirate more than he ever would have expected as he remained hunched over the long-nose, his body wracked with despair.

"Don't be stupid, Sanji," a voice suddenly spoke, lilting upward from the hush until it was only just loud enough to reach the cook's ears. "If I'm already dead, you can't kick my ass..."

Coming to an awkward halt mid-breath, the blonde blinked in confusion, rooted to his spot by that soft murmur. When he finally managed to dredge up some semblance of control, he bolted upright, risking a glance down at the boy that lay within his arms.

There were several more moments of stillness before two bleary eyes flew open. The sniper blinked in confusion, gaze unfocused as he suddenly spouted a baffled, "Eh?"

The young chef gaped at his companion, so startled that he was quite sure he'd lost the ability to speak. "U... Usopp?" He stuttered warily, fumbling visibly as he watched the sniper slowly lift his head.

Groaning slightly with the effort, Usopp peered down at his own torso, reaching up to prod at himself as if he doubted his own solidity. "You-" He began timidly, sounding shocked beyond words. "You mean I'm _not_ dying?" He laughed oddly in disbelief, still sounding quite weak, but grinned widely until the arms supporting him disappeared, dropping him unceremoniously to the ground.

The chef was instantly upon the smaller pirate, tossing his soiled handkerchief aside. He drew back the torn fabric of the darker haired boy's overalls, revealing a wound that was not nearly as serious as he had been led to believe.

"This," the love cook sputtered, eyes wide as he extended one finger to indicate the sharpshooter's injury. "This isn't that deep a cut!" He exclaimed, incredulous as he turned to match the gunner's baffled stare with his own condemning one. "So where the hell did all this blood come from?"

Attention lifting from where he was now sprawled out upon the dirt, the marksman looked thoughtful for a moment, rifling through his memory. "Oh, yeah!" He spouted abruptly, looking sheepish in a manner that had Sanji's eye narrowing in suspicion. "I uh... accidentally got myself with one of my Kecchapu Boshi."

Sanji scowled, pinning the gunner with a murderous glare. "When I am done with you," he began tersely, the words strained as he fought to contain himself, "I am going to kick your ass so hard you'll feel it three months ago."

Rather than be concerned with the true intent of the cook's suggestion, the liar was more perplexed by the blonde's choice of words. 'But wait,' he wondered idly, 'Won't he be done with me _after_ he's finished kicking my ass? And how can I feel it three months-' "W-Whoa!"

With an alarmed squeak, the sniper found himself pressed firmly to the ground, the chef's body heavy upon his own as his older crewmate bore him into the bed of leaves he laid upon. "S-Sanji!" He yelped, voice going shrill in his panic. "What are you-"

Driven by impulse and instinct alone, the previously mentioned young man came to the swift decision that he'd had quite enough talking for one day. Surging forward, he sealed the boy's lips with his own, effectively silencing any further protest as his mouth descended upon the gunner's. 'I'm through beating around the bush…'

Tensing beneath his comrade, the long-nose attempted to cry out only to have his calls easily swallowed by the chef. He whimpered quietly, uncertain, yet not at all displeased, and any hopes of escape were immediately quelled by the cook's soft, simple embrace.

Sanji lowered himself to one elbow, his now free hand moving to clasp the back of his partner's neck, coaxing him into the kiss. He could taste the familiar sting of saline tears upon the boy's lips, and wondered idly for a moment whether or not his were tinged with the same.

Usopp reacted to the best of his ability, a gasp lodged within his throat as he let his mouth move shyly beneath the blonde's own, meeting his friend's subtle probing with a gentle curiosity. Each downward press was met with a willing yield, the tension in his body relenting more with each tender brush.

Smiling slightly, the love cook sensed the sniper moving to complement his embrace, felt the boy's stricken nerves even through his lips as the gunner returned his advances, head tilting almost imperceptibly as he rose to the unspoken offer.

When the need for air drove them apart, the blonde eased back, panting lightly as he studied the marksman's half lidded gaze. Several seconds passing had the chef moving fully away, driven off by the sniper's lack of reaction until a long, slender arm suddenly snaked around his neck.

Whether it was the desire to prolong their exchange, or simply to delay the vengeance that he had promised at the conclusion of their joining, when Sanji found himself hauled lower into the liar's own stumbling kiss, he knew that he possessed neither the heart nor the will to refuse him.

* * *

Please don't kill me! I had every intention of ending it this way, in all honesty. This is something I dreamed up because I believe Usopp reactions are based largely in regard to each situation, and he has a mild tendency to be something of a drama queen. XDDD This is in no way me using a scapegoat because it is physically impossible for me to write a sad ending. Seriously. Cross my heart! I can only hope I didn't piss everyone off with my abrupt change in mood. O.o Oh well, you can't win them all. 

If someone DID happen to enjoy this, please feel free to leave a comment. It'd be very much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

(Oh yeah, and for those who may not know, "Kecchapu Boshi" is Usopp's attack where he shoots himself with a pellet full of ketchup to make himself appear badly wounded.)


End file.
